


denim ain't made to stretch

by 1helluvabutler



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, PWP, just hot smut bc i'm bad at heartfelt stuff, second chapter gets kinkier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-27 18:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14431293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1helluvabutler/pseuds/1helluvabutler
Summary: For someone called the “Winter” Soldier, Bucky sure knows how to make things hot.





	denim ain't made to stretch

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
> idk man they must have partied with T'Challa at some point, right?

Steve honestly can't say he's that surprised when Bucky finally snaps one night, shoving him roughly against their front door and slamming their lips together in a first kiss that makes Steve nearly whimper.

Wasn’t his fault, honest. Steve just can’t help himself when it comes to stupid teasing and by the time the sixteenth bottle of booze had been cracked open by T'Challa that night, not even he himself, former Captain Damn America who could always tell right from wrong, could tell if he was being serious or not when he decided to run his foot up Bucky’s thigh under the table, and wink at him over the glass of expensive-tasting liqueur. Whether or not he could actually get drunk was not the point.

So no, it does not surprise Steve when he finds himself suddenly pinned to a door by a metal arm, meeting a mouth so eager and hot it feels like Steve’s kissing a flame.

What _does_ surprise him, is how willing his own body is to answer those lips, those touches, how loud the roar of want is screaming Bucky’s name inside his skull, how fast he’s ready to surrender himself and give back everything he possibly can, because it’s Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky_ he’s kissing.

Sam was going to have a field day about this talk later, Steve could already tell. Or maybe a stroke.

Whichever way, equally awkward and kind of unnecessary conversations about how ‘repressing feelings is unhealthy’ and ‘hooking up with former Russian assassins is also unhealthy’ would be bound to come up one day in Steve’s future. Soon, if Sam happens to catch a look at the hickey Bucky seems so intent on marking somewhere just below Steve’s ear.

It makes him hiss when those cool metal fingers run up his neck, circling in rough little patterns that draw both fire and goosebumps from Steve until he’s almost shivering against the door. God, where had _this_ side of Bucky been before? Steve threads his fingers tight in Bucky’s long, mussed-up hair and kisses him even harder and filthier until it’s Bucky who finally pulls back, gasping for air.

 _“Christ,_ Stevie,” he rasps, pupils shot, and that’s all the warning Steve gets before Bucky slams his lips back until Steve’s head swims and his lungs burn. Hazily, he wonders if anyone’s ever died of air loss like this.

A vivid headline of ‘ ** _Captain America found dead in apartment, accidentally suffocated by kissing ex-assassin’_ ** suddenly flashes across his mind and Steve actually snorts before he can stop himself. What a way to go.

Bucky, for whatever reason, seems to take the noise as a challenge, and the fake headline is wiped clean from Steve’s mind forever when a knee slides between his legs and grinds upwards so sharp and perfectly placed, it tears a needy noise from Steve's throat before he can stop it. God, Steve can feel himself flushing from embarrassment, but then the knee against his dick moves again, and there goes Steve’s remaining ability to think straight, let alone say anything that isn't muffled into the desperate kiss.

“I sure hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am, or this is gonna be awkward,” Bucky slurs somewhere against Steve’s lips and Steve doesn't bother biting back his groan this time. _No_ question about reciprocated enjoyment here.

If there ever had been any buzz left from T’Challa’s liquor, it’s more than burned out of Steve’s system by now. Nothing left of the night before this room except a soft smokiness on Bucky’s tongue, and even that’s getting fainter every time Bucky kisses him, coaxing out embarrassingly happy noises from Steve.

This isn’t even a question of ‘do I like Bucky like this’, or ‘do I want Bucky’ anymore. No, this night is delving dangerously deep into the ‘I _need_ Bucky’ territory of his mind; an area apparently nearly completely locked off before tonight, but something that is never going back down again, Steve realizes and tightens his grip around Bucky.

Bucky, he thinks.

 _His_ Bucky, he decides possessively and somehow grinds back against the man until Bucky’s gasping sharp against his mouth, metal hand faltering halfway up Steve's back.

“Steve-” Bucky’s murmur gets cut off by Steve’s tongue.

Bucky’s fingers hook through his belt and yank Steve forward to slot them both together, hissing through his teeth when they collide, gasping, thrusting, grinding. Fire explodes in Steve’s veins now and he can barely keep himself from making noise every time Bucky rolls their hips together like he’s trying to undo them both right there.

 _“Fuck.”_ The whisper smears more heat than sound across Steve’s skin and Bucky’s eyebrows knit tight with need. Steve shudders when a hand moves back to squeeze his ass and he groans, mouth faltering against Bucky’s.

Takes nearly an entire minute before Steve remembers what he had wanted to ask; Bucky makes the most disappointed noise when Steve pulls his kiss-slick lips off his and, _god_ , Steve just _has_ to dive back once more before managing to squeeze out a strangled, “Bed?” Bucky’s eyes set so dark with need they’re practically bottomless pits by now.  

“Right,“ he agrees almost instantaneously and starts backwards, dragging Steve by his now-wrinkled collar.

And then Bucky trips backwards over the coffee table.

For someone feared as one of the most skilled assassins in the last century, Bucky goes down remarkably like a sack of potatoes. _Y_ _ikes_ , Steve has time to think, even if the beat of worry skipping over his heart is over before it even properly starts. Moving that table had been on his to-do list for a while now.

Still, Steve can't help the sudden bark of laughter bubbling up in his throat seeing Bucky’s expression promise pure destruction for his poor choice of furniture. Something tells Steve his table had just been marked down for the personal, full-fury vendetta of the Winter Soldier.

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” Bucky grumbles sourly as he picks himself off the floor. Eyes still scorching holes into the unfortunate table, he clings back to Steve and kisses him like he’s looking for consolation. “Geez, if you wanted to slow down, you could've just asked,” he manages to murmur in-between sucking his way down to Steve’s pulse point.

Takes Steve a few seconds to process his words and unnerving worry creeps into his chest, fraying at his thoughts. “You want to stop?”

“I- what, no-” Bucky splutters, scrunching his brow in confusion. “Was jus’ making a joke. I mean- unless you _do_ want to go slow and-”

“I- no, I thought it was obvious I-” Steve interrupts, ears growing hot. So much for trying to be considerate. “I just thought that you- the table- might not-”

The gleam in Bucky's eye borders somewhere between eager and downright dangerous when he hears the words and, oh boy. Steve’s half-expecting his pants to tear from straining too tight as Bucky grabs him by the collar and shoves them together into another searing kiss that ends with them grinding until Steve is embarrassingly near drooling.

“In that case: sorry to disappoint, Rogers, but I’ve been waiting way too long for this,” Bucky actually _growls_ when he finally detaches and mouthes his way down to suck a rough hickey onto Steve’s neck. “Seventy years, give or take,” he adds with a nip to a sensitive point and Steve’s breath hitches as he’s pushed backwards into his bedroom.

Seventy _years_.

‘That’s impossible,’ his brain tries to chime somewhat defensively. He would’ve noticed-

Ah, _shit,_ Steve’s thoughts blur when Bucky's hand finds a nipple under his shirt and Steve’s focus is very much snapped back into the present.

Wallow in questions and remorseful self-analysis later, get Bucky into bed _now._ Or the nearest partially-horizontal surface for that matter. By now, Steve is almost beyond caring.

Bucky pulls back for a split-second to yank Steve’s shirt over his head, pressing back against the exposed torso almost immediately, wearing a look that sends a jolt of heat straight to Steve’s already too-tight pants. “Can’t believe you thought I wanted to stop,” Bucky grumbles, but he’s grinning against Steve’s mouth.

“I just-”

“Dumbass,” Bucky growls and Steve is inclined to agree, even if it is immediately pushed to play second fiddle to the way Bucky’s tongue laves over his pulse. Steve’s vision goes white for only just a second, but that’s all the time Bucky apparently needs to push them backwards to Steve’s bed, one hand on Steve’s chest like a guideline.

The bed frame cracks ominously as Steve’s dropped backwards onto the covers, a bundle of folded socks digging into his naked back from where it was left over earlier from laundry duty. He opens his mouth to crack a stupid joke, but the words die in his throat at the sight of Bucky being suddenly shirtless.

“Oh,” his short-circuiting brain supplies lamely instead.

He doesn’t _mean_ to stare, but, _god_ , how can he even help it when Bucky looks like that, hair messy and skin flushing where Steve had dug his fingers in. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looks like he’s reveling in Steve’s attention by the slow way he licks his lips and Steve drops his head backwards onto the mattress with a silent whine.

It isn’t _fair._ One’s brain suddenly deciding your best friend of 90 years is very hot and bangable is definitely not good for your health.

Bucky takes his squirm as an invitation and the bedframe snaps again as Bucky slowly dips himself down to join Steve on the bed, inching up between Steve’s legs, pinning him to the mattress by a wrist to steal away another kiss.  A hand ghosts over Steve’s chest and Steve arches up, just to be driven back into the mattress by a knee against his aching cock.

“Sh-sh- _sh,_ ” Bucky soothes in a low voice when Steve barely whimpers, breathless, begging. And Bucky seems eager to give, one hand cupping Steve through his jeans, straining so tight it hurts, _god, it hurts, tight, so good, so good, Bucky._ Steve never does realize exactly when he closes his eyes, just that when Bucky’s fingers slip down his pants and inside his underwear to wrap around his cock, Steve is about two inches away from going blind with want.

“Buck-” he chokes out, because it’s too much, too _good_ and Steve will be damned to come inevitably if Bucky doesn’t stop soon. But instead of stopping, Bucky does something smart with his fingers and Steve’s so hard he can feel himself leaking all over Bucky’s hand. It’s mortifying, but Bucky doesn’t stop. Steve really doesn’t actually want him to stop.

Oh, god, Steve bites his lip and tries his best not to come yet, but it’s getting really, _really_ hard to do. It’s like Bucky’s sensing his thoughts because Bucky’s hand tightens around his cock, coincidentally just how Steve likes it and Steve’s actually so close it hurts when he thrusts into Bucky’s hand, fingers probably bruising prints where they’re holding Bucky’s shoulders, but Bucky doesn’t care, Bucky still doesn’t stop, please, Bucky, don’t stop, oh, god, oh Bucky, please, please, Bucky, fuck, Bucky, Bucky, _Buck-_

Steve comes all over his stomach with a yell.

White-hot pleasure courses through him with Bucky’s name silently on his lips like a mantra and Steve lays there, trying to blink away the spots and haze clouding his vision.

Wow.  He-

It-

Bucky just- _christ_ . 

Steve can’t catch a single sentient thought that isn’t circled around Bucky.

A tentative, “you alright?” floats its way into Steve’s consciousness and he blinks Bucky’s smug face into focus.

“Great,” he breathes out, not bothering to fight back his own smile, fingers playing on Bucky’s collarbone. Solid muscle ripples under Steve’s hands and he feels Bucky suck in a sharp breath as he traces faint scars on the bare chest. Bucky stays quiet and hovers hesitantly above him, arms still caging Steve in from both sides.

Steve never really noticed until this moment exactly how quiet his thoughts could get around Bucky.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve mumbles quietly and Bucky stiffens under his hands.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky says after a silent moment, expression unsure.

Steve snorts fondly; like they hadn’t just spent the last five minutes making out harder than a couple of teenagers, followed by what had felt like probably the best handjob Steve had ever gotten. “Bucky, you could put me in lingerie and tell me to dance on a stage for all I care,” he says, propping up onto an elbow..

Of course, _Steve_ had meant it as a joke, but Bucky stiffens for just a single second and the hand holding down Steve’s thigh twitches in excitement before Bucky bends down to kiss him breathless.  _Huh_ , something in Steve’s head says deviously and files the knowledge away for a possible later. Right now, Steve considers the heat already pulsing through his veins a more current issue.

Bucky’s somehow still stayed hard in his own pants, now groaning needy in Steve’s mouth when Steve’s thighs press up to grind sweet friction. Unfair of Bucky to never take either of their pants’ off, Steve thinks with a roll of his hips that makes Bucky’s arms visibly buckle around him.

“Steve, _god_ -”

Steve makes quick work of Bucky’s zipper and tugs at the obstructive waistbands until Bucky sits back up to help, somehow managing to kick everything off without ever leaving the heat of Steve's lap. Steve's mouth feels drier than a desert as he stares at a very naked Bucky settling to straddle one of his thighs, thumbs hooked through Steve’s belt loops, teasing, not near enough to grind down where Steve needs it the most.

Bucky sits heavy and warm on Steve’s leg and Steve can't stop staring at the way Bucky’s muscles move as he contorts to jiggle Steve's pants downward without moving from his spot. Heat’s already coursing through Steve’s veins at the sight of, well, _everything_. He can already feel himself getting hard again as Bucky kisses him, like he hadn’t just gotten off only minutes before.

Super-soldier stamina, huh.

“Steve, you got any-?” Bucky starts, cutting himself off breathlessly when Steve nods at the small dresser beside his bed. “Good,” is all he says, planting one more kiss onto Steve’s scruffy face before sliding off the warm body just far enough to reach the cabinet. “You ever done this before?”

Steve feels his face color.  “I’ve...tried some things,” he finally admits after a short pause, thinking about the long evenings he’d spent holed up in his apartment, accompanied by nothing but the all-knowing internet in all its various pages of glory. Sci-fi movies and cat videos had gotten a bit monotone after a while. “On myself.”

Bucky promptly drops the lube he’s found. “Huh,” he says and Steve watches him swallow thickly as he bends down to grab the small bottle off the floor.

Doesn't even take a second until Bucky’s perched back on the bed between Steve’s legs, heat from his hands just barely teasing, skimming over Steve’s thigh without touching and Steve just wants to arch into the hands, wants Bucky to touch him so _bad_. “Any preferences?” he asks, one hand snapping open the lube with a distractingly sharp _click._

“I- no,” Steve starts, brain short-circuiting and Bucky snorts.

“Well then,” Bucky rumbles. “Could be time for Captain America to follow the lead for once,” is what Bucky says before he leans down to kiss Steve breathless, and Steve doesn't miss the way his eyes glint just before there’s a tongue down his throat.

 _Alright_ , Steve’s mind immediately surrenders to the idea and he’s putty under Bucky’s roaming hands.

There’s a finger at his backside, cold and slick with lube and before Steve can tell what’s happening, Bucky’s got his mouth distracting and hot on Steve’s collarbone while he pushes inside and Steve’s got to remind himself to relax.

Bucky detaches from Steve’s with a scrape of teeth against the hot flesh and Steve shivers at the sensation. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, not sure what exactly to even focus on. “You can move.”

The fingers edges deeper and Steve's breath hitches as it pumps slowly, slick and already hot inside him; feels different than his own hand, but absolutely not in a bad way. Bucky’s gentle, but he does move damn well and it doesn't take too much for Steve to clamp his teeth down on the inside of his cheek.

The second finger gets a obscene noise from Steve, and he clamps his mouth shut in embarrassment. Bucky lets out a low whistle.

“Didn’t know you had pipes like that, Stevie,” he murmurs, grinning from ear to ear. “You never complain in fights.”

Steve wants to argue, but Bucky’s fingers twist so perfect and sharp inside him and Steve’s throat leaks a sound so filthy it sounds almost fake.

“ ‘S not- that‘s not fair, Bucky,” he mumbles, half-hearted glare not deterring Bucky’s smugness even a little bit.

“What’s not fair? This?” Bucky’s fingers curl just _right_ and suddenly pleasure explodes up his spine and Steve’s trying to remember how to breathe.

 _This_ was unexpected. Steve’s never reached that bit inside himself like Bucky just did and Bucky looks more than happy to turn all his attention to finding that spot under his fingers again, Steve’s body jerking helplessly with every thrust that hits its mark dead-on. It’s gotta have something to do with sniper skills, there’s no other way-

“Or how about this?” Bucky interrupts the thought with a third finger that slides right to his prostate and Steve arches straight off the bed. Oh god, oh fuck, oh _fuck_ -

“You know what’s not fair, Steve? You,“ Bucky rasps low, voice dripping with the kind of need that makes Steve bite his lips to stifle the loud-ass moan ripped from his throat. “So damn perfect already from the day I met you, even if you were nothing but a scrawny little punk.”

Steve’s stuffed a knuckle between his teeth to shut himself up; his best and only defense for Bucky’s fingers slick and hot inside him, coaxing actual whimpers from Steve’s mouth every time Bucky rocks into him.

But then there's a metal hand on his jaw prying his mouth open and Bucky curls up his fingers just as he leans in to purr a silky, “that’s not fair either, Steve,” and god, Bucky, please, _fuck_ , Steve’s so close to begging it's not even funny anymore.

He’s never gotten like this on his own. Most he’d ever gotten was a few sharp zips of pleasure every now and then, but not enough, never anywhere near enough to compare to what Bucky’s doing right now, Steve fisting the sheets in a blubbering mess, all stretched out over Bucky’s fingers, greedy, desperate, _god_ , nearly pleading for more.

What kind of figure could the public make out of him now, Captain America practically _drooling_ against his pillow in need, but then Bucky does something phenomenal with his fingers and Steve doesn’t care anymore, just Bucky, Bucky, _please_ -

Something sparks in Steve’s head.

Steve’s eyes fly open and he’s got a hand on Bucky's arm, gasping with all the little bit of oxygen he's got left.  “Buck- Bucky no- wait, I’m g- stop, gonna come if you-”

“That so?” Bucky cocks an taunting eyebrow and flicks a spot that has Steve writhing with a noise like an injured animal. A tilted flash of teeth glints fast and sweet before Bucky’s got a metal hand splayed on Steve’s chest and Steve’s earlobe sucked between his canines. “Don't you dare,” and Steve’s gotta bite his tongue and clench a tight hand around his cock before it’s too late.

“Bucky, plea- I- Bucky, need you,” Steve splutters, actually shoving on Bucky’s chest until the fingers inside him slow. He ignores the screaming ache of need clawing at his insides and edges backwards until Bucky pulls his fingers out with a final tantalizingly slow drag and Steve’s left way more empty than he needs to be right now.

Definitely needs something more. Steve swallows as he watches Bucky slick himself up.

Excitement drips thick and stifling in the air as Bucky kisses him again, open-mouthed and filthy and oh-so distracting, heat seeping into Steve’s flesh from every place Bucky pressed warm and sweaty against him. It's perfect and Steve groans, savoring the way the noise gets lost in the softness of Bucky’s mouth.

But Steve can’t help the yelp of surprise as strong hands hoist one of his legs over Bucky’s shoulder to hold it tight and when Bucky pulls back to look at him, he’s got that determined look glinting in his eyes that makes Steve’s stomach swoop.

This is really happening.

“You ready?” Bucky rasps and Steve can do nothing except nod, coals of hot excitement burning through his vocal chords as Bucky’s hands grip tight on his thighs and he lines himself up with Steve’s entrance.

It takes everything Steve has not to moan when Bucky finally pushes all the way in, breath hot on Steve’s chest. The feeling burns hot up his spine, scorching every inch of him in sheer white-hot bliss, so good, so full, so good, so full, full, _full_ and, fuck, Steve’s breath flat-out stops as realization slams into him like a sledgehammer as to just how long he’s actually wanted _this,_ wanted _Bucky;_ like soothing an ache he didn’t know he had.

He can’t even begin to imagine what Bucky must be feeling.

“ _Fuck_ , Steve.”  Bucky’s gasping, metal hand so tight on Steve’s thigh, Steve’s sure he bruising but he doesn't care, Bucky‘s dark eyes rolling back into his skull as he almost sobs a quiet, “ _fuck_.”

Steve’s not sure when he moved, but suddenly he’s got Bucky’s stubble scratching under his cupped palms and Bucky’s staring at him like he’s found the meaning to his life right there in Steve.

And then Bucky finally moves and Steve’s biting his lip so hard he can taste metal. For the first few seconds it hurts, but it’s good, so good, so perfect and sharp the way Bucky has him pinned under his weight and, _please_ , Steve doesn't ever want him to stop.

Bucky’s trying to be gentle. The gesture itself is sort of sweet at first, watching Bucky try to hold back like he’s almost scared of hurting Steve; it stops being that sweet as soon as Steve gets accustomed with everything and he finds himself really missing Bucky’s earlier treatment, to be undone from the inside so hot and messy and good like before.

“Come on Bucky. I’m not exactly as breakable as I was back in Brooklyn,” Steve grins, trying to sway himself on Bucky’s cock, egging him for more friction. C’mon, Buck, move, please, _please-_

Bucky’s eyes glint sharper than his smile and Steve suddenly has a terrible sense of foreboding. “That so?”

“Ye- _agh-_ !” Steve’s head flies back and Bucky’s laughing breathily at him, vibrating low through the both them but Steve’s thoughts are too scrambled to be mad, _god_ how could he be mad with Bucky seated so deep, so good inside him and he’s finally moving like Steve needs him, fast and precise.

“You’re so good, Steve, y’know that?” Bucky huffs, adjusting Steve’s leg on his shoulder.

“Bucky, you-”  

Bucky’s hips snap sharp and Steve jerks up, but Bucky’s in the way and Steve's slammed back into the mattress, oh _god_ , at an angle that’s got him almost sobbing under Bucky. Please, please, _please_ -

Steve’s losing his mind here. His fingers scrabble uselessly at the bedsheets, at Bucky, at his own hair, until they find the bed’s headboard and do nothing except grip it like a lifeline, knuckles turning white; and then Bucky shifts, _oh fuck, please_ , and Steve can feel the wood crack under his fingers, the wood splintering deeper with every thrust Bucky rocks him against it.

They’re not going to last much longer, neither of them. Bucky drops Steve's leg from his shoulder and grips Steve’s hips like a vice as he hammers Steve deeper into the mattress and Steve likes it too much, seeing Bucky coming more undone with every thrust and Steve drags him down into a kiss that’s all heat and need and Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky_ , and it’s the best thing Steve’s ever had.

“ _God_ , Buck, you’re really-”

The last word chokes off into a guttural moan, because Bucky’s hips hit something inside him _just right_ and sparks explode to blind Steve’s vision and he’s almost sobbing when he hears Bucky stutter, “Steve, Steve, close- I’m-”

“Yeah, Bucky- come on,” he whispers, voice raw with need because he’s close too, it’s too much, too good, Bucky, please, _please_ ; and he’s still almost begging when Bucky finally spills inside him with a shudder. Only takes a few strokes from Bucky's shaking hand for Steve to follow suit and it’s hot bliss with Bucky still inside him, around him and there’s nothing Steve can do except shiver and curl his toes into the sheets as he cums with a noise that makes his own ears go hot.

Steve barely registers the mouth on his at first, just melts under Bucky’s lips like he’s always been expecting it; Bucky’s so gentle and Steve’s heartbeat hammers loud in his ears as he feels Bucky pull back just enough to slur his name against his lips, Steve’s face cupped in Bucky’s hands. Steve shivers at the sensation.

Bucky’s careful to pull out; they untangle slow and clumsy before Bucky topples onto the mattress next to Steve and Steve’s tugged onto his side, but he doesn’t mind it one bit, being stuck with one of Bucky’s arms clunkily under his neck and a foot pressed against his knee, but none of that matters next to the way Bucky holds his gaze on his.

“You alright?”

Steve just smiles at the question. “Very.”

He can’t stop staring at Bucky. It’s almost embarrassing, the hot lump crawling up his throat as he takes in Bucky’s glowing face, every little line and new blemish being about 200% more entracing than Steve could have ever thought them to be. He’s perfect, something in Steve’s head sighs, watching Bucky’s eyes practically glow with happiness. “Guess that’s one thing to cross off the list of things I’ve missed in the last 70 years,” Steve mutters, more to himself than Bucky as he pulls Bucky closer into a final, lazy kiss.

Bucky’s long hair tickles under Steve’s chin, but not enough to be a bother; they lay there, foreheads together and Bucky just stares until Steve's ears singe hot with embarrassment.

“What?”

“Tired?” Bucky asks finally, expression so absurdly soft it makes something in Steve’s chest somersault as Bucky carefully threads his fingers through Steve’s sweat-dampened hair.

Not really, Steve contemplates to himself before tilting his head instead of a proper answer. Although. somehow, still in the mood to kiss Bucky’s expression into something that doesn't make Steve feel like he's on the verge of getting cavities. Should he-?

He makes sure Bucky sees the way he licks his lips. “I could do this all night.”

The hand stops and Bucky’s eyes flash with surprise.

“That so, Stevie?” Bucky’s hand doesn’t untangle from Steve’s hair, but his smile is already veering dangerously towards pure interest. Or not-so-pure, Steve has the time to consider before Bucky tackles his lips and Steve once again has to consider the possibility of suffocating from a kiss before the night is over.

Thank god for super soldier stamina.

**Author's Note:**

> time-to-change-away.tumblr.com


End file.
